Jin Yong - The Book and The Sword

Zhang was incensed at being treated like a criminal in the dock. "All right, you," he shouted, striding forward. "You're obviously looking for trouble!"

Shi retreated a pace. "What's this?" he asked. "You want to take me on because you don't dare to accept the North China Earth-Shaker's challenge, is that it?"

"Who says I don't dare?" Zhang roared. "I will be there on Lion Peak at noon today."

"If you decide not to go, then never again consider yourself to be a member of the fighting community," Shi said. "Master Wang says that if you have any guts at all, you will go alone. There will be no one else from the Bodyguard Agency there."

"Why should I need help? Do you think I am afraid of this egotistical, stupid old man?"

"Master Wang is not a great orator," Shi continued, ignoring Zhang's comment. "When you meet him, the issue will be decided by kung fu alone. If you want to curse and swear, please feel free to do so now."

Zhang was speechless with rage.

Shi laughed coldly, then turned on his heel and left with Han following.

While the two had argued, Han's mind had been on the poison he had taken, and wished that Shi would hurry up and finish so that he could get back and take the antidote.

"We agreed to meet at noon," Shi reported on their return to the mansion at Solitary Peak.

Han collapsed on a chair with what appeared to be stomach cramps. Xu poured out a cup of wine and handed it to him.

"This is the antidote. Drink it up, Brother Han."

Han quickly stretched out his hand to take it, but Lord Zhou snatched the cup away first and drank it down at one draught. Han stared at him an amazement.

"We have joked with you enough, Master Han," Zhou said with a smile. "You didn't take any poison at all. He was just playing with you. Master Xu, come and apologise."

Xu walked over, grinning and bowed. "Please forgive me, Brother Han," he said.

Meng went in once more to see Wang Weiyang. "Master Zhang has agreed," he said. "You can go now. And by the way, he does not like naggers, so if you have anything to say, say it now. When you get to Lion Peak, the matter will be decided with fists and blades. If you try talking to him even to beg for mercy, I doubt if he will listen to you. If you are afraid, there is still time to pull out."

"I am prepared to die today if need be," Wang shouted, huffily stroking his beard. He stood up and strode out. Meng motioned with his hands to an attendant who handed Wang his sword and a bag of projectiles.

Han was standing by the door. "Please be careful Master Wang," he said.

"You know about this too?"

Han nodded. "I have seen Zhang."

"What did he call me?"

"It was demeaning. You would not wish to hear it."

"Speak," ordered Wang.

"He called you… an egotistical, stupid old man."

Wang grunted. "We shall see whether or not I am egotistical. Brother Han, if anything should happen to me, please look after the agency and the affairs of my family for me." He hesitated. "And tell my two sons not to rush into taking revenge. Their kung fu is still not good enough, and they would lose their lives to no good purpose."

He then started out for Lion Peak and the duel.

The slopes of Lion Peak produce abundant quantities of tea, one of the most exquisite varieties of the leaf under heaven. The mountain itself is high and precipitous, and few people go to the very top.

Wang Weiyang, his great sword slung across his back, clambered up the steep slope and emerged through the tea bushes onto an expanse of open ground on the summit. He noticed walking towards him a tall, robust man wearing a short jacket. The man stared at him for a moment.

"Are you Wang Weiyang?" he asked.

"Yes. And you are the Fire Hand Judge, Zhang Zhaozhong?"

"I am. Do you wish to fight bare-handed or with weapons?" Zhang was a very thorough man. He had searched about carefully during his climb up the peak, but had found no sign of anyone lying in ambush.

Wang was startled to see Zhang's mouth and nose were swollen and with his right eye ringed in black, injuries caused by Chen the night before. "We have no great grudges against each other," thought Wang. "Why risk killing him with a sword-stroke? The consequences of killing an official of his rank are unthinkable. It will be enough to humiliate him with my Eight Diagram Kung Fu. I'll show him I'm not egotistical."

"I would be honoured to pit myself against your famous Limitless Occult Kung Fu, Master Zhang," he said out loud.

"Fine," Zhang replied. He brought his fists together in salute and waited for the other to attack.

"If I may…" Wang said, and as he spoke, his left fist shot out and his right hand sliced across towards Zhang's right shoulder. Then in a flash, his left fist flipped over and aimed for the right shoulder while the right hand went for the chest. Zhang retreated three paces and fended off the blows. The two circled around, surprised at the extent of the other's ability.

"His moves are fast and powerful," Zhang thought. "He's a strong adversary."

"He avoided those blows of mine with ease," Wang thought. "Fire Hand Judge is no misnomer."

Suddenly, Zhang stepped forward and swept his left leg across at Wang, who jumped clear off the ground to avoid it and countered with a fist aimed at Zhang's face.

They were evenly matched and fought close and fast. The sun was riding high and their two shadows danced on the ground, merging and separating in a flash. Wang knew that at his age, a long battle would finish him. So he quickly changed his style, and with one hand protecting his body and the other facing outwards, he raced round Zhang, his feet following the pattern of the Eight Diagrams.

The style dictated that he keep moving, circling round Zhang to the left and right, waiting for an opportunity to strike. It would make even a kung fu master dizzy after a few circuits.

Zhang knew how ferocious this style was, and lunged at his opponent. But Wang had already circled round the other way. Suddenly he struck at Zhang with both fists, one of which slammed into his shoulder. Zhang caught hold of Wang's wrist and struck out at his elbow in retaliation. With his free hand, Wang swung at Zhang's other shoulder and the two leapt apart.

Zhang had had the worst of the encounter. "Your kung fu is excellent," he shouted. "Let us duel with swords."

He drew his Frozen Emerald sword, Wang also drew his sword and the two stood facing each other.

Zhang's mind was bent on recovering face, and he struck out with a series of attacking sword strokes, fast and vicious. Wang could tell from the way the light glinted on the Frozen Emerald sword that it was a superb weapon, and knew that if the two swords clashed, his own blade would come off the worst. So he did not dare to directly parry the strokes.

They fought round and round. Wang began to sweat and he secretly worked a number of darts into his palm and then swapped his sword over to his left hand. He slashed out with a left-handed stoke, and simultaneously flung the darts at Zhang. Zhang managed to dodge both dangers, but he was becoming flustered by the onslaught. He swept his sword across at Wang's waist, and as the two swords clashed, Wang's blade snapped cleanly in two.

Wang roared and hurled the remaining half at Zhang, and followed it with his remaining three darts. With a cry, Zhang fell over backwards and the Frozen Emerald Sword dropped to the ground.

"Master Zhang, forgive me!" Wang cried out anxiously. "I have some Golden Scar Ointment here."

Zhang was silent. Wang feared he was dead, and killing a court official was no laughing matter so he rushed across and bent down to examine Zhang.

As he did so, he saw flashes of gold before his eyes. Cursing himself, he leant over backwards as fast as he could, but too late. He felt stabs of pain in his left chest and shoulder as the needles plunged home. He gave another angry roar and jumped up ready to fight Zhang to the death. But as he swung his sword, the pain in his chest and shoulder was so extreme that he fell back to the ground with a groan. Zhang laughed out loud. He pulled one of Wang's darts from his wrist, ripped a strip of cloth off his jacket, bound the wound then stood up.